I'M A MAD TELEVISION HEAD

There were creatures in the darkness, but no one saw them – except for Synthka. People were walking on the streets, bland expressions on their faces, walking wherever they needed to go at such late hours. The town was enveloped by blackness, it was like it was floating in a void; stars had fallen from the sky a long time ago. The many street lamps and neon signs offered their light for the people that were wandering around, but their artificial light was dreary. No one cared at this point, for it was the age of when machines and people were fusing together, so whether something was considered natural or not, it didn't matter. Synthka himself was a prisoner of this ideology.

A skinny man, dressed in black as if he was mourning, Synthka was walking while nervously glancing around, the many critters around him watching him. Though, he didn't have eyes, so was he really looking around? Synthka's head had been long gone, replaced by a television. There were many things he didn't acknowledge about himself; for instance, he didn't know if Synthka was even his name, it was just something he had picked up from a monitor when he woke up with his current memories. What had happened to him originally, what was his past life like, he couldn't really tell. He knew he was just a victim of modification, nothing but a playground for madmen. His existence was a torturous one and contemplation of ending it all was not a stranger to his broken mind.

So many strange cats, equipped with extra limbs and eyes and mechanical parts, they were infesting the streets wherever Synthka was going. But they weren't the only ones; there were numerous rifts around the town, masses of eyes peeking from them, their gazes fixed on Synthka. He could also see quickly moving creatures, both humanoid and animalistic in appearance, that would disappear from his sight before he could take a better look at them. Nobody paid any attention to them; it was all in Synthka's head. He didn't want to be here, he had to get away. He began running, not caring if he bumped someone in the process, their angry comments wouldn't be heard. There wasn't much choice where to go for a miserable wretch no one cared about. So Synthka headed towards the hole he called home.

It was an apartment that had definitely seen better days. It was cramped, there were holes everywhere, wallpaper had come off in many places and there was water damage. But only there Synthka could hide from the overwhelming world. He had no idea if this apartment had belonged to him as there were no items that could reveal any information about who had lived within these walls. Synthka just happened to have a key.

There was buzzing inside his head as he stormed into the place. He slammed the door shut and leaned against it for a moment. His heart was beating fast and he was instinctively gasping for air; however, he had no nose, no mouth, so he didn't know how he could breathe. After cooling down for a while, he walked deeper into the dark apartment, to a living space where only a couple of pieces of furniture waited for him, along with a mattress where he slept. Synthka dragged himself to the mattress and sat down, holding his heavy head.

Somewhere within that television was the brain of a fragile man. A complex organ, hooked up with wires so carefully put together, it was like a piece of art. Having no face anymore, his identity had been wiped away. And still, everything he would think or feel would be displayed on the screen, robbing him of private thoughts. He was meant to be watched and observed by others. And occasionally, a special broadcast would be displayed on the screen, depriving him even the control of his body that was still made of flesh and allowed him to have some humanity left in him.

Sometimes Synthka wondered if he was even a person anymore. But he would always come to the same conclusion: yes, he was. His life was full of suffering. And to suffer, you have to be someone.

WE INVITED HIM IN AND NOW HE WON'T LEAVE

Hare's memory was a fuzzy one, it was like there was fog in his head that veiled important events from the past two days, preventing him from revisiting what he had seen and experienced. There was just this mess of fleeting moments that kept repeating in his mind, but they appeared rather confusing. He could recall a huge explosion, flinging rubble in the air. Trench full of mud. He had gone down fast; something had hit him in the head. Hard. Most likely he had survived just because his helmet had protected him. This is where his consciousness faded. However, as he momentarily awakened later, it became apparent that he had survived. His comrades had rescued him and brought him into the safety of their bunker. A doctor had examined Hare right away, but miraculously, there wasn't much exterior damage to his body; just some bruising and cuts that weren't deep. However, the doctor had suspected he could probably have a concussion. This hunch proved to be right when Hare started to vomit. He also complained about headaches, so the doctor suggested that he should focus on resting. Hare tried his best to sleep, but struggled with this a little bit as he would keep waking up every now and then. He could fall asleep again after a while, but his dreams were restless.

Eventually Hare managed to get into a slightly better condition. He could walk around a little bit, but had to take it easy as he experienced some dizziness. He hadn't recovered enough to go back to the battlefield, so he had to remain in the bunker and to occupy himself, he would do small tasks such as tinkering with various electrical devices and make sure everything was running as smoothly as they could in this little hole. Though, soon Hare would take whatever tasks were available just to get his mind off of something that had started to trouble him after his concussion.

One day, by the entrance of the bunker, Hare had seen something… or someone that wasn't there before. Seeing this figure had caused him to question his own sanity. Standing in the shadows, there was a tall black figure, wearing robes that looked ancient. The entity had the head of a raven, a feature that is out of this world. Hare had spent a moment just by staring at this figure. It had stared back at him. Then Hare thought that he was probably just seeing things because of his head injury, especially since nobody else was able to see that thing, his comrades kept passing it numerous times a day, but never acknowledged the being's presence. Hare tried his best to just ignore the thing and just do whatever needed to be done.

It became a much harder job to do as the creature started to appear in every corner of the bunker. Mess hall, storage, sleeping quarters, around the hallways… Hare started to see the entity everywhere. Sometimes he saw it following around one of his comrades like an odd shadow. It started to imitate what they were doing, like whenever Hare and his fellows would sit down and drink after day had turned to night, the raven-head was there too, drinking the same wine as them. Hare would glare at the creature every now and then, but he never became intoxicated enough that it would slip from his tongue to tell the others what he was seeing. He really didn't want to be labeled as a madman.

Days passed by but the raven-head didn't leave the bunker. Hare had gotten used to its presence as it didn't seem to be malicious, but it was still a great mystery what its purpose was. It had never tried to communicate with him or anybody else. It just was… there. Watching. Mimicking. Until one day, Hare finally got the answer for what was the intention of this strange entity.

Two dead soldiers were rushed in. Hare caught a glimpse of them as they were transferred to the infirmary. He also saw the raven-head standing by the bunker's entrance, waiting, as if it knew what was going to happen. Then it did something which Hare couldn't fully comprehend at the time. The entity began to walk beside the convoy and made weird motions with its hand, as if pulling something invisible. Two small and blue spheres rose from the chests of the corpses and the creature quickly snatched them, hiding them inside its robes. Then the creature retreated back into the shadows, leaving Hare to wonder what he had just witnessed.

There was a hell outside and more bodies would come. It started to feel like every time a group went out of the bunker, somebody would come back dead. And every time, Hare saw how the raven-head would pull these blue things out of the deceased. Hare still had no explanation for this, but he had once again started to feel odd about the entity. Was it just a coincidence that the death toll was rapidly increasing after it had appeared? Sure, Hare and all his comrades knew it well that they might not return home alive, but it started to feel like this creature was a seriously bad omen to them. As more and more people kept dying, Hare became confident that the raven-head was to blame.

Desperation and death prevailed. Less and less men were still alive in the bunker. They had tried to call for reinforcements but they had never appeared. Hare was one of those few survivors. Morale was as low as it could, the men remained somberly quiet. The sounds of artillery haunted them. And the raven-head still lingered around, tormenting Hare. He had had a lot of time to think and he was pretty sure he knew why this creature was here. It was just waiting for them all to die. Then it would harvest their souls. As soon as it had first made its appearance, it had doomed them all.

There was no escape from a gruesome demise.

ALL THESE BROKEN HEARTS

First it's black. Then it's white. And then black again. Then white. This reality around me just kept shifting and changing constantly. Now everything was black and I was stuck in this endless void. But there were stars scattered all around, I was walking on a path made from their dust. It was beautiful and brilliant, reminding me that even in the middle of darkness, there was beauty. The stars were twinkling in such a way that one could find hope and comfort from their light, but for me, it was getting harder and harder to do. I was a sinner, cast away into this dimension I couldn't even understand, just to suffer even more.

Along the path of stars, I could occasionally find a heart lying on the ground. Countless people before me had walked on this same path, just seeking for a way out of anguish. And for some, leaving the heart behind was the best choice. Then I would find them and I would take them. Inside my chest was nothing but a black hole, the perfect indicator for others to see where my misery was coming from. I would try each heart I was able to find, put them in my chest and see if they could work. So far, no luck. I knew it well that they were all broken, but I simply held onto hope that maybe I could come across one that would help me feel connected to you again. You took mine and banished it inside a dark world where I never managed to retrieve it. But I thought that maybe… Maybe I could replace it with one that got discarded.

I can feel their ache and despair, their sorrow and hatred, all the wicked things they tried their hardest to seal away and all the twisted things they wanted to unleash. There was so much darkness a human heart could carry. And I would feel them too as I switched around with the hearts I had found. Maybe they were tainting me slowly, corrupting me even further. But I simply didn't care. I was driven by desperation, I was chasing the shadow of you. I yearned for your presence, your touch. Even if it takes a million years, I'll continue to search through hearts no one wants anymore, attempting to find one that matches yours. Perhaps it's all futile, because how could a broken heart heal anything? But the truth is, no one throws away unbroken ones. There was nothing else I could do but to keep looking from the abandoned hearts.

As the strongest dark emotions a heart can possibly contain keep filling me, I can feel only pity towards these people who carried them. For that reason, I keep all the hearts I have collected. Whatever may the reason behind their abandonment be, these emotions were a mark of humanity. Perhaps I'm a fool here, but I think these pieces they tore off from themselves are still valuable. They were a burden they would rather not hold anymore and I won't judge them for that. But once there was love in them, love and hopes and dreams, all of that just got contaminated with darkness.

And I continue to walk in the world of black and white, following the roads of stardust, I keep collecting the hearts like a child collects seashells from the beach. They're unique and beautiful and since nobody else wants them, I will take care of them. Is it my new purpose, to walk through this space gathering hearts that were left to rot in the void? Or am I simply cursed to suffer because of my sins, looking for something that can't be found? I don't know, I don't know anything anymore.

At least the twinkling of the stars soothes my soul. I'm most likely damned, but maybe my time here in this dimension won't be constant torment. But everything is shifting and changing and so will I and my sensations. I'm like embedded into this space, so I think I should just get used to it.

ONE-WAY ELEVATOR TO HELL

Raneshu was sitting behind his desk, writing down the last wishes, regrets, grudges, desires and needs of dead souls, using a fountain pen and a notebook that never ran out of pages. It wasn't really a duty of his, it's just something he enjoyed to do while doing his actual work. With his large pointy ears he could hear well the echoes of the dead, both from hell and when they were just on their way there. There were many paths to hell and only a fraction came through the one where Raneshu was stationed. He was quite an unusual sight in the eyes of humans as he shared the same kind of body as them, but his head belonged to a black dog. But, usually people hardly paid any attention to his looks since they already knew where they were heading.

A few lamps were attached to the walls, giving illumination for Raneshu as he was immersed into his writings. The room where he was working resembled a hotel lobby, at least for now. It had changed many times during aeons, but just as humanity progressed, so did hell. There wasn't much in the room aside from Raneshu's desk, the most notable thing being the elevator that was on his right side. Then there were a few things to make the place appear more welcoming, such as paintings hanging on the wall and plants sitting on their pots. Because this entrance wasn't used for people that had to be punished, no, this was the gateway people used when willingly wanting to get to hell.

It had been a long time since the last human came this way. But now, Raneshu could hear uncertain steps coming from the corridor ahead of him. He did a quick glance into the complete darkness that shrouded the corridor, not yet seeing who was walking along that path. He focused on writing again, allowing the arrival to come at their own pace.

The steps kept coming closer and closer until they reached the room. Raneshu was still writing, not yet paying attention to the person.

“Umm…” Even the voice was hesitant. “Is this the way to the underworld?”

Raneshu raised his head to look at the arrival. A young man with a pained expression, something that wasn't an unusual guest around here.

“Yes”, Raneshu replied and resumed his writing.

“Great, I have to go down there”, the young man said, seeming slightly more confident now. “My… the love of my life was taken from me. I have to save him.”

Raneshu had heard this countless times before. It was one of the most common reasons why people wanted to descend into hell. What an incredible force the love was, making people do insane things.

“I have to give you a warning”, Raneshu said, still keeping his gaze on the notebook.

But before he managed to continue further, the young man already got agitated. “I refuse to go back without him! I will get inside and you won't stop me!”

Raneshu looked at him again. “I'm not stopping you. I'm simply giving you advice.”

“Oh…” The young man calmed down immediately. “What is it, then?”

“This elevator here”, Raneshu said and pointed at the device, “it will take you to your destination. However, be warned that it won't take you back. Once you're in hell, you have to find your own way out.”

“I will.” So much bravery – or foolishness – behind the man's words, but it was all the same to Raneshu. “Thank you for your advice.”

“Good luck to you”, Raneshu said and started to write again.

He heard how the young man walked to the elevator and entered it. It took him a brief moment to figure out how it works, but soon Raneshu could distinguish the noise of the clanking machine that headed downwards. After the elevator's sound had faded, he could hear rumbling as the new elevator took its place in the lobby, waiting for the next traveler.

Now there was one more soul in hell. It didn't really matter if he had gone there voluntarily. And Raneshu didn't really care about his fate. He was just another lovesick fool that thought they could just enter hell and find the one they loved dearly and manage to return back to the world of mortals just like that. They would rot in hell. But if nothing else, at least they could suffer together.

MOCKING GODS

A fox, an eagle, a tiger and an ox… These were the sacred and celebrated gods of the little village Kangama. Long time ago they helped the ancestors of Kangama to make the region a habitable place, for back in the day it was a barren and desolate land. The ancestors were refugees that had escaped the disaster of their homeland, eventually ending up in the harsh region where they were barely able to survive. The four gods took pity on them and combined their strength to create a good place to live. They shaped the land, made it fertile, and created a lake and rivers so the earth would never be thirsty again. They made the plants grow and soon the woods dominated the landscape. The region became like a piece of heaven and the ancestors rejoiced, praising the four gods. Generation after generation the respect for the deities prevailed and were celebrated through festivities and offerings. The tale of their good deeds lived on, being passed from parents to their children. The villagers had built a shrine for the gods and there were statues representing each one. It was a holy ground for praying and showing respect.

It was clear that the relationship with the people of Kangama and their gods was a strong one, even after so many years had passed. So when the destruction struck the peaceful little village by weaponizing the image of gods, it truly was an act of evil, a cruel joke.

The people of Kangama had gone to sleep without worries, but little did they know, their lives were about to be changed forever. The winds had started to howl in an unnatural way, bringing forth dark clouds that would unleash torrent and rattle the sky with thunder. The sounds of the incoming storm woke some up, but they just thought it would pass over night. But, as soon as people started screaming, the rest of the villagers knew something was going on and came out of their homes to find out a reason for the commotion.

Buildings were on fire and the flames were abnormally dark. The rain seemed to just strengthen them and the fire kept spreading. However, the thing that horrified the people wasn't the destructive flames themselves, but the reason why they had ignited in the first place. It wasn't something natural like being struck by lightning. No, it was because the four gods were wreaking havoc. But they were tainted, their beautiful and vibrant colors had been turned black and there was just malice in their eyes. The ox and the tiger would maul people that came too close to them while the fox and the eagle would keep spreading chaos. The villagers were sure that these creatures weren't the actual gods for they were known for their benevolence. Somebody or something was just using their images to inflict more pain onto them. But who or why, that was something they never got an answer for.

Amidst the great calamity, some people were able to escape, just like their ancestors. But the whole settlement was burnt down and many lives were lost that night, their harrowing screams would forever echo among the ruins of homes. The four beasts were never seen again as they didn't hunt down the survivors. Those who made it out alive didn't want to go back, it was simply too painful and they were afraid. Something evil would definitely linger there, a malicious force had surely been behind this great tragedy. The survivors would probably never get answers for all the questions behind this attack, having no other option but to move forward.

Why hadn't the real gods helped them? It was the one question that was burning the most fiercely inside the minds of the villagers. There had been no trace of them, not even when the survivors had prayed for help and guidance from them. They had remained silent and unseen. It made the survivors feel like they had been betrayed by their gods. Some people were confused and grieving, but some started to harbor resentment towards the deities.

In the end, they would wander far away from their precious homeland. And along that journey, the farther away they would go, the less and less they would think of the sacred fox, eagle, tiger and ox. Eventually they would fade away from their minds. And what good is a god that no one remembers?

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